You Can Stand Under My Umbrella
by DuckGirl2007
Summary: Mycroft develops an interest in Anderson. Here is what ensues.  Warning: CRACK! Played like it isn't, sometimes, but crack pairing nonetheless.


**You Can Stand Under My Umbrella, a Mycroft/Anderson fanfiction**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Sherlock. All rights belong to the BBC, Moffat and Gatiss. And maybe ACD too. ;)**

**A/N – My sister will write one too, and put hers on , but it will be crackier. I need to inform you, so you don't accuse us of stealing ideas off of each other. Thank you for reading.  
Also, when I first thought of this pairing, I saw it purely as crack, but now I've worked with it a bit, it has serious, non-crack potential! I think it's as valid a pairing as Sherlock/John or Sherlock/Lestrade, or any of the rest!  
Anyway, enjoy!**

For Mycroft, the day _began_ the same as every other day before it. Wake up, get dressed, have a cup of tea (_without_ biscuits – he was counting the calories) and set to work seeing what his brother and John Watson were up to, and maybe making sure World War Three didn't start too.  
It _was_ the same as every other day, he mused. His eyes looked around the neat office, making sure everything was in its proper place before resting his eyes on the computer screen.

Well, it _was_ the same as every other day, that is, until he noticed Anderson. He quickly read he was working under DI Lestrade.

Mycroft's mind boggled. How had he not noticed Anderson before? He was sure he would've noticed someone as intriguing as _Anderson_!

He thinks back to when him and Sherlock were talking last, and grasps the concept of _Anderson_. He remembers Sherlock talking briefly about him, saying how "when he talks aloud, he lowers the IQ of the whole street".

Mycroft frowned. That _can't_ be right. That _can't_ be the same Anderson whose information was on the computer screen right now, could it?

He was thoroughly confused. Why would Sherlock do Anderson such disfavour? Then he caught himself, and wondered how he truly felt about Anderson, even though they hadn't met. He decided he needed to get to know Anderson more before even _thinking_ about that, so he arranged 'Anthea' to tell him when Anderson was next on a case, doing forensics.

If she thought it was an odd request, she didn't let it show as she agreed she would.

Mycroft sighed, and waited. He knew it could be a while before Anderson was called out on a case, but when he was, Mycroft would sneak in too. He would make sure of it.

He _knew_ Anderson wasn't intelligent, by any means, but for once that didn't matter, and that confused him. He always tried to associate with people with intellect, like himself, and Sherlock, though he doubted the latter due to his brother's strange experiments, and he didn't even know the _Earth goes round the Sun_! Mycroft smiled. He was glad he read John's blog now, if only for amusement.

Therefore, it was only just that Anthea put her head round the door and said Anderson would be needed at Methley Street, Kennington, Greater London tonight, as would Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.  
"It's a bloody double murder...are you listening?" asked Anthea, looking annoyed, watching her boss stare off into space out the window.

"Sorry? Yes, of course. Methley Street, Kennington. I'll be there, thanks." said Mycroft, smiling. He got up out of his chair and put on his coat.

'The game is on, now. This could be interesting...' thought Mycroft, as he made his way to the front of the building, where his chauffer was waiting in a shiny, black Jaguar XF.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed slightly when he noticed Mycroft getting out of the car with his umbrella, even though it was a starry, cloud-free night.

"Ah Sherlock, doing the police a few favours, as always?" Mycroft asked.  
"Of course, but the real question is what are _you_ doing here?" asked Sherlock, still cold towards his brother.

"Just checking it out, that's all. Possible security risk, and seeing as you keep telling me I'm the British Government, I thought I should come down here." replied Mycroft, smoothly, then spotted Anderson in the doorway to the house. So did Sherlock.

"Go home, Mycroft. I have work to do." replied Sherlock, and him and John walked up to the house, entering. Anderson followed shortly after, but not before he glanced at Mycroft, wondering what he was doing there.

Mycroft happened to run into Anderson – literally – an hour later, after Sherlock and John had disappeared. From what everyone was saying, it sounded like the case was wrapped up completely.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" said Anderson, rudely.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there." replied Mycroft, feigning surprise fairly well.

"You've been here all this time? What _are_ you doing?" asked Anderson, suspiciously.

"Well, I've been looking around. I'm a potential house-buyer." replied Mycroft, smoothly.

Anderson narrowed his eyes.

"Then you can get a better look at it in the morning. Clear off, before I call Lestrade to arrest you under anti-terrorism laws!" said Anderson, frowning slightly.

"Now _that_ would be ironic." replied Mycroft, curtly.

Anderson continued to get annoyed.

"Look, whoever you are! I saw you talking to Sherlock earlier. You should stay away from that freak." said Anderson, irritated.

"Believe me, I try to. See you around, I expect." replied Mycroft, politely, then walked away to the Jaguar XF and telling his chauffer to go back to the large house that the government let him have, for all his good services in stopping WW3 every time it threatened to break out.

Anderson was left standing there, confused. Who _was_ that man who was talking to Sherlock?

'They're alike, it seems. They _could_ be brothers, I suppose, but I'm sure the freak would've mentioned any family...' thought Anderson, and he eventually decided he would forget about what happened fairly quickly. At least, he _hoped_ so, as dealing with any brother might be twice as frustrating as dealing with Sherlock himself.

He knew that the next time he met that strange man, it would be too soon for his liking.

That 'next time', however, was about a week later, and Anderson was only too happy to show his displeasure at such a meeting.

Mycroft laughed.

"Ok, I'll tell you the real reason I'm here: I need to talk to you – in private." admitted Mycroft, wondering how Anderson would take it.

Anderson thought for a while, then grudgingly accepted.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt." replied Anderson.

"Good. I'll meet you at the cafe down the road here, at 11AM. Is that alright with you?" asked Mycroft, smiling at the fact he finally gets to talk to Anderson.

Anderson nodded, "Yes, that'll be fine, but you'd _better_ have a good reason!"

Mycroft bid him a good night, and hardly slept a wink that night, waiting for the opportunity to meet him properly.

Anderson, however, slept soundly, and it was only at 10:45AM that he woke up and _remembered_, so he quickly threw on some clothes and rushed out the house, hoping to get to the café on time, which mercifully he did.

"You woke up late." said Mycroft, even before he said hello. It wasn't a statement.

"Yes, I did." Anderson replied, and then waited for his companion to explain why he summoned him here.

Mycroft realised that was the case, and cleared his throat.

"Well, I think you should know that I sometimes work for the government, and I've been keeping an eye on Sherlock Holmes and his flatmate, John Watson..." started Mycroft, internally berating himself for not preparing the speech he would spin Anderson.

"Why meet in a cafe, I mean...you look like a very wealthy man." said Anderson, confused, but calling him on it anyway.

"I didn't want to alienate you by meeting in an expensive restaurant or bar. Common courtesy, I suppose. My mother instilled it into me from a very young age." replied Mycroft, smiling, leaning his umbrella on the table-edge before letting go of it.

Anderson smiled back, and Mycroft's insides melted at that look, as if he were an ice-cream dancing in a toaster. He didn't know how he had so willingly walked into _this_, but he was glad he did. For Anderson, Mycroft would've danced in that toaster forever.


End file.
